This is Demis and my private place; we made it, and nobody can come up unless we let em, except Daisy, we dont mind her, said Tommy, as Nat looked with delight from the babbling brown water below to the green arch above, where bees were making a musical murmur as they feasted on the long yellow blossoms that filled the air with sweetness.
Oh, its just beautiful! cried Nat. I do hope youll let me up sometimes. I never saw such a nice place in all my life. Id like to be a bird, and live here always.
It is pretty nice. You can come if Demi dont mind, and I guess he wont, because he said last night that he liked you.
Did he? and Nat smiled with pleasure, for Demis regard seemed to be valued by all the boys, partly because he was Father Bhaers nephew, and partly because he was such a sober, conscientious little fellow.
Yes; Demi likes quiet chaps, and I guess he and you will get on if you care about reading as he does.
Poor Nats flush of pleasure deepened to a painful scarlet at those last words, and he stammered out,
I cant read very well; I never had any time; I was always fiddling round, you know.
I dont love it myself, but I can do it well enough when I want to, said Tommy, after a surprised look, which said as plainly as words, A boy twelve years old and cant read!
I can read music, anyway, added Nat, rather ruffled at having to confess his ignorance.
I cant, and Tommy spoke in a respectful tone, which emboldened Nat to say firmly,
I mean to study real hard and learn every thing I can, for I never had a chance before. Does Mr. Bhaer give hard lessons?
No; he isnt a bit cross; he sort of explains and gives you a boost over the hard places. Some folks dont; my other master didnt. If we missed a word, didnt we get raps on the head! and Tommy rubbed his own pate as if it tingled yet with the liberal supply of raps, the memory of which was the only thing he brought away after a year with his other master.
I think I could read this, said Nat, who had been examining the books.
Read a bit, then; Ill help you, resumed Tommy, with a patronizing air.
So Nat did his best, and floundered through a page with may friendly boosts from Tommy, who told him he would soon go it as well as anybody. Then they sat and talked boy-fashion about all sorts of things, among others, gardening; for Nat, looking down from his perch, asked what was planted in the many little patches lying below them on the other side of the brook.
These are our farms, said Tommy. We each have our own patch, and raise what we like in it, only have to choose different things, and cant change till the crop is in, and we must keep it in order all summer.
What are you going to raise this year?
Wal, I cattleated to hev beans, as they are about the easiest crop a-goin.
Nat could not help laughing, for Tommy had pushed back his hat, put his hands in his pockets, and drawled out his words in unconscious imitation of Silas, the man who managed the place for Mr. Bhaer.
Come, you neednt laugh; beans are ever so much easier than corn or potatoes. I tried melons last year, but the bugs were a bother, and the old things wouldnt get ripe before the frost, so I didnt have but one good water and two little mush mellions, said Tommy, relapsing into a Silasism with the last word.
Corn looks pretty growing, said Nat, politely, to atone for his laugh.
Yes, but you have to hoe it over and over again. Now, six weeks beans only have to be done once or so, and they get ripe soon. Im going to try em, for I spoke first. Stuffy wanted em, but hes got to take peas; they only have to be picked, and he ought to do it, he eats such a lot.
I wonder if I shall have a garden? said Nat, thinking that even corn-hoeing must be pleasant work.
Of course you will, said a voice from below, and there was Mr. Bhaer returned from his walk, and come to find them, for he managed to have a little talk with every one of the lads some time during the day, and found that these chats gave them a good start for the coming week.
Sympathy is a sweet thing, and it worked wonders here, for each boy knew that Father Bhaer was interested in him, and some were readier to open their hearts to him than to a woman, especially the older ones, who liked to talk over their hopes and plans, man to man. When sick or in trouble they instinctively turned to Mrs. Jo, while the little ones made her their mother-confessor on all occasions.
In descending from their nest, Tommy fell into the brook; being used to it, he calmly picked himself out and retired to the house to be dried. This left Nat to Mr. Bhaer, which was just what he wished, and, during the stroll they took among the garden plots, he won the lads heart by giving him a little farm, and discussing crops with him as gravely as if the food for the family depended on the harvest. From this pleasant topic they went to others, and Nat had many new and helpful thoughts put into a mind that received them as gratefully as the thirsty earth had received the warm spring rain. All supper time he brooded over them, often fixing his eyes on Mr. Bhaer with an inquiring look, that seemed to say, I like that, do it again, sir. I dont know whether the man understood the childs mute language or not, but when the boys were all gathered together in Mrs. Bhaers parlor for the Sunday evening talk, he chose a subject which might have been suggested by the walk in the garden.
As he looked about him Nat thought it seemed more like a great family than a school, for the lads were sitting in a wide half-circle round the fire, some on chairs, some on the rug, Daisy and Demi on the knees of Uncle Fritz, and Rob snugly stowed away in the back of his mothers easy-chair, where he could nod unseen if the talk got beyond his depth.
Every one looked quite comfortable, and listened attentively, for the long walk made rest agreeable, and as every boy there knew that he would be called upon for his views, he kept his wits awake to be ready with an answer.
Once upon a time, began Mr. Bhaer, in the dear old-fashioned way, there was a great and wise gardener who had the largest garden ever seen. A wonderful and lovely place it was, and he watched over it with the greatest skill and care, and raised all manner of excellent and useful things. But weeds would grow even in this fine garden; often the ground was bad and the good seeds sown in it would not spring up. He had many under gardeners to help him. Some did their duty and earned the rich wages he gave them; but others neglected their parts and let them run to waste, which displeased him very much. But he was very patient, and for thousands and thousands of years he worked and waited for his great harvest.
He must have been pretty old, said Demi, who was looking straight into Uncle Fritzs face, as if to catch every word.
Hush, Demi, its a fairy story, whispered Daisy.
No, I think its an arrygory, said Demi.
What is a arrygory? called out Tommy, who was of an inquiring turn.
Tell him, Demi, if you can, and dont use words unless you are quite sure you know what they mean, said Mr. Bhaer.
I do know, Grandpa told me! A fable is a arrygory; its a story that means something. My Story without an end is one, because the child in it means a soul; dont it, Aunty? cried Demi, eager to prove himself right.